She Knows in the Rain
by romanov16
Summary: Rogue has dreamt of many things in her life: control of her powers, of having a family, of finding peace, of a future, and of love. Given the chance to have it, she dares to take the gamble that a Cajun offers her with a kiss. But fate's a fickle thing, and may have only teased her with bare glimpses. AU of Romy Ultimate X-Men


More inspired by than based off the Ultimate X-Men Universe Cry Wolf, with touches of the movies and main comic and The End thrown in, hated how they handle Gambit and Rogue most of the time, so here is my spin on it. Plus I kept her name as Marie since that's the version of her name I like best. I own nothing.

* * *

"Woman needs man, and man must have his mate, that no one can deny...the fundamental things apply, as time goes by" ~Casablanca

* * *

She Knows in the Rain

* * *

I

They are washed clean, standing there.

Standing in the cold downpour so common in big northern cities like New York, the dust and filth and lies and treachery of their battle with Euro-Union good-for-nothings swept away. Born again in a baptism-on-land, as her Daddy would've joked, once. A lifetime ago. Though it's nothing like warm monsoon-like rain that would splatter near their trailer park home on the Mississippi. Still, rain was rain, and it makes all things clean again. Lord, if she'd been alone right now, she might've just close her eyes to really, truly feel it-

But she wasn't alone. And instead of taking shelter in the rain, her something in her soul was being merged in it. To another. Another soul she barely knows save for some stolen memories from a trickster's kiss.

Except that's not true, is it? Rogue _does_ know this man they call Gambit, just a little bit. She knows he's probably the most reckless person she's has ever met, willing to throw anything and everything on a hope for the future. She knows that despite that, he won't knowingly or willing take that hope at another's expense -not without proper remorse and atonement. She knows that either his honor or sense of fair play has lead him to defend her against the Fenris Twins, when they tried to bargain her freedom from her, in exchange for profane touch. She knows he's a good man, good enough to defend him from the violent punishment inflicted by her own protector Wolverine...who apparently loved her like a brother, according to Storm. (She felt bad, and to be fair to Logan, Gambit_ had_ kidnapped her...but that still didn't excuse beating him like that...)

Now she swallows, taking a step back as Gambit comes forward, gentle but insistent. He's not backing down. Which lead to three other things Rogue knew about the thief.

She knows he's lankly, and olive tan, and narrowed hipped, and broad shouldered, and angled in his face, with soft want in his gaze, different from the leers he graced her with earlier. Honest.

She knows that he's experienced where she's still innocence. That's he's kissed many women in his twenty-seven years, while she's only truly been kissed by the rain, in her brief nineteen summers.

And she knows they already look like lovers, standing here in the rain, him pleading his cause to her. To have her.

Y' know I got more in common with y' than with yo' friend back t'ere," he argues. "You've seen my past! No matter what I've done y' know my heart's always been in the rig't place!"

Rogue closes her eyes, letting drops fall on her lids. Hoping they'd help her see, cause it doesn't take a genius to know there's a choice to be made here. Go back to what was safe, what was known...or throw herself forward, into something vast and deep and utterly unknown. That could maybe be beautiful. Maybe be forever.

She wants to take the step...but it's such a long, long fall.

"The memories have already faded away, Remy," she tells him, stalling for time, while her blood races with her thoughts. What in God's holy name did she _do_? Choose?

But her tactic falls apart when determination charges up in his eyes.

"Then I'll give y' more," he swears to her, vows, reaching out to capture her again, and her dang heart nearly comes up her throat.

"N-no!" she gasped, old habits trying, scrambling for walls. "If Ah touch you-"

But he's already captured her, wrapped around her, touching her. Maybe he's always been, deep down, and long before they've met. Her Mama Pricilla use to tell her stories about soulmates, and how God bound certain men to women cause they had to know each other just to become whole and know themselves. Bound them through time and space and death and universes in a never ending string of eternity. It wasn't always pretty sunshine and roses...it was a blessing as well as a curse.

So it would figure that she would have one.

Not a hundred people in the world did.

She can't speak. Can't even try. He's captured her but his grip is gentle, and more terrifying is the fact he _knows_ her too, as well as she knows those few things about him.

"It's okay Marie," he murmurs, and she trembles at her name, the promise laced within it, one that brightens with charge in his eyes. "I'm not like other men. I can take the pain."

She can't response to that...and only partly because he's proving it to her, his mouth to her, his breath to her breath. Bone of his bone. Flesh of his flesh. His hands at her waist and cradling her short mahogany hair.

She's captured -so beyond captured at this point, she'd probably fall over if he let go, though her hands fumble to grasp him back.

Cause her powers...they let her see it, it doesn't drain him but she can_ see it._ Glimpses of every kiss they'd ever had through eternity, sees every time he's claimed her.

_"Rogue?"_

And just like that she's made her decision. It's not hard. And she skips the introduction.

"Tell the Professor thanks for everything," she saids softly, head dipped down and cheeks red. But her Mama and Aunt Carrie had drilled_ some_ manners into her. "But I'm dropping out of the institution."

It was never really her game. She wasn't the murderer Weapon X tried to make her. But how could she be a hero when she didn't know herself? She doesn't try to explain what just happen. The team would never believe her. Believe the wonder she saw in that kiss.

"Rogue, we're you family now," Jean tried to insist, but Rogue shook her head. No, they weren't. She had a family once, and while loving, it hadn't been perfect -they couldn't stop their own demons from destroying themselves -and the X-men were her friends sure, classmates, yes. Unforgettable...defiantly. But aside from Logan...none here counted as family. That was riding on the gambit she was about to take.

"It's time Ah tried something different."

Bobby's face was red under his ice. "By walking away with another manipulate-"

But that's what she did, turn and walk away into her rainfall, Remy's arm snakes around her, claiming her against his side. She lets him, breathing in the scents of their home states that still linger on his skin.

* * *

II

_O__h God._

She was crazy. Loony. Yo-yo. Positively certifiability_ insane_. She had to be, cause there was nothing in what she's doing that _remotely_ qualified as reasonable or sane. Reasonable, sane people don't walk away from the only people who ever offered them safety, _security_ from a world that hates you. They didn't toss aside a roof over their head and three sure meals a day for God-knows-what!

Her first steps away from the X-Men start like she'd done many things, high on feeling, emotion, and low on everything else. And she's so captured now that she doesn't bolt like she probably should -while Remy's showering in the bathroom of the safe house he's brought her too.

He let Rogue shower first, gentlemanlike after handing her some silky white night clothes. Now she's sitting on the lone bed, the only furnishing in the place, plucking at her hands like freshly chopped chickens. What now? He didn't...expect anything did he? Not so soon, right? People...didn't move that fast, right? Even up north?

Not that she's scared of him. After all he did to help her escape from Fenris, she knows that while he's probably strong enough to overcome her (though even without absorption, she'd like to think she could put up on heck of a fight) he has to much honor to try anything that ugly. She's not _scared-_scared.

Still...he wouldn't expect anything right? Not on the first night of...whatever this was.

The shower turned off.

Oh God. Well, she's about to find out.

Remy's wearing a black t-shirt and grey sweats, aubrun hair still damp. His head cocks and his steps slow as he enters, like he can sense the moods running under her skin. She shuffles, sitting crisscross-applesauce on the covers.

"Hah," she greets softly, face already reddening.

"Hi," he answers her back, taking that as his que to come closer, joining her on the bed. Red-black orbs study her, before reaching up slowly to run his fingers over the length of her arm to her curling hair. She's pretty much stopped breathing. And he grins a little in pleasure.

She also knew that he was a bit of a womanizer up to this point (the fact that he had woman pajama's in his safehouse wasn't winning him any brownie points on that score).

"Tres Belle," he compliments her. And somehow she nods, still watching his face. There_ is_ something there...not anticipation though. More like...Hope. Cautious want. But also surrender. Tonight was under her authority, and so she does what would've made her Daddy happy, if he wasn't killed for owning the wrong people money.

"Can we go to sleep?" she askes, and her voice has more of a squeak to it than she'll ever admit to. Ever.

Remy's face softens and he nods in consent, though he does lean in, and gives her a second kiss of the night, warm on her mouth.

"Course chere," he murmurs. And her gentle let down of what he might've been hoping for doesn't stop him from carefully reach over, and capturing her again to sleep tangled together.

* * *

III

They've done the only sensible thing for two Southern birds like them. They flew home.

Well, they actually rode a motorcycle, bought with Gambit's emergency funds (which he has a lot of, carefully stored away over the years). The ride is fast and freeing and there both laughing in the wind sometimes, as the North and it's cold is left behind.

Rogue...Marie hasn't been here since she fourteen and her powers stole her first kiss from her. Terrified, she'd wandered the swamps like Moses in the desert until Weapon X captured her, dragging her into wars that were none of her concren. Then rescued by the X-Men...and dragged into wars that were none of her concren.

Her arms tighten around Remy's waist.

"Y' okay chere?" he asks her.

"Never better," she tells him.

* * *

IV

Eventually, after some debating, they decide to settle in a small town deep in Louisiana, tiny enough not to be on anybody's map. The people are friendly, curious as to the young man and the girl who've join their little community. And their friendly back, though by cation and habit, they still keep mainly to themselves.

That will likely take a few years to brake. But it has too. Rogue tired of living in fear. And Remy, having lived in it longer, far more so. So they throw out everything, every fear into the cabin they bought. It's a little thing, four bedrooms, a bathroom, a front porch that swims with fireflies at night and the music of the bayou...but it theirs, and it's more than Marie every had.

She reflects on this as she finishes washing new plates they bought for breakfast, the smell of nicotine coming from the front porch. Remy's there, watching the sunrise. She goes to him with easy grace, settling beside him.

"Hey," she greets, eyes running over shirtless skin, before darting away. They still have separate rooms.

His mouth turns up. "Chere."

She shuffles, crinkles her nose. It's so not fair how much he knows what he can do to her, she thought, huffing.

"You have to leave for work soon?" she askes, knees pressing together.

They made the decision early on that they couldn't be the towns near-do-wells. They need to form bonds with the community, and since it's still not safe for Rogue to work due to her powers, that task falls to Remy, while she takes care of their home. They'd been making progress on the powers, slowly but surely, and far quicker than anything Professor X did for her (which brought the shady thought to mind that maybe in this version of him, he hadn't _wanted_ to help her). Turns out, the charge she absorbs from Remy's touches help to build an immune system in her skin. So far, she can safely go thirty minutes without absorption. More minutes will come. It's only a matter of time.

Remy nods -he worked at local diner. Which had gotten a hundred times more popular since he started cooking.

"Ah still say it's cause of ya pretty face," she'd teased him. "Probably don't noticed the cooking awful."

"Don't y' be insultin' my cookin' chere," he'd warned her, and when she wouldn't heed him, he'd capture her on his lap, and tickle her mercilessly.

In the here and now, Remy nodded. "We take a walk when I get back _non? _Sound nice?"

She lights up. Marie can't help it. "Ah'd love that."

"_Bien_." his eyes are warm.

* * *

V

She loves their walks alongside the water, and tries to imagine in how many others world had they taken the time to do this. She has the chance to explore somewhat, cause everytime and every second he holds her hand, a million images gleam around, like epic poetry brought to life. Some versions of them are dark, bitter and hateful to each other, hunt to badly over too many times. Sometimes they are together but stand-offish, to jaded to cross River Jordan.

Sometimes they are young children when they meet for the first time. Sometimes adults. And they can be either when they fall in love. Her powers, his powers...they serve as a boon and barrier in their story, no matter the version. And far as Marie knows, she's the only one of her, where her powers have the ability to absorb these glimpses of the multiverse. And not go mad from it. Instead, she feels...wizen. Beautified.

There's beauty in these others versions of them, sometimes raised by their families, sometimes by their friends, sometimes by monsters. Grace too, cause while the fall, they rarely give up. She admires them. She pities them.

But she tells no one about them. Not even Remy, as she lays with her head in his lap, watching the sunset on the soft moss.

Who would believe her?

Sides...it's a catch twenty-two. If she spoke of it, messes with it, the worlds she'd avoid at all cost might just capture them.

* * *

VI

Something's wrong when he comes back today. For one thing, his face is darken like nothing Marie had ever seen, come back up their pathway. For another thing, he's not alone, somebody lingering in a familiar trench coat, face drawn and somber and unreadable as he looks around their yard, shielded in the swaying Spanish moss.

She goes out to meet him, hands reaching, grasping, keeping, protecting. Something's wrong here, and her throat is dry as she tries to read him, even as he collects himself -and her- drawn tightly together.

"Remy, what is it?"

He breathes out, low and long.

"Trouble at home petite," he mutters with a frown. "Mon pere is dyin'."

"Oh Remy..." he's told her about the man who raised him, imperfectly, but with good intentions. Marie knows that he's missed him, time and again.

"He's known it was comin' chere," Remy saids, "For a while now...but I got to go see him."

She stiffens. Can't help it. "But you said your banned from N'Awlins-"

He grins now, though the sadness doesn't leave him. "And what sort of thief would I be if I can't sneak into mon ville natale?"

Her hands grasp him harder. "Ah'll go with you."

"Non," his voice is gentle, finger tipping her chin up. "You be breakin' guild law, mon fille. Vist's like this are sacred. Only family-"

"So marry me on the way. Lets go." She teasing...well trying to, trying to smile. Cause something horrible she can't explain is twisting her gut.

Remy, for his part, smooths her hair. It's gotten longer, almost her shoulders in loose curls.

I'll be back in three days chere. I promise."

* * *

VII

Something so very, very wrong. Nine levels of it, swirling in her gut, and hurts in her teeth as she paces the length of the darken room.

He didn't come back tonight. It's been three days, and he's not back. At both Weapon X and the X-Men, that was a double, triple, bad-bad-bad sign. At first, she tried not to panic, tried to just get through the day. She weeds their garden, sweeps and mops, started dinner. But as the hours roll by...her confidence shrinks and her fear spikes. And she ends up on the floor, desperately trying to recall if something like this has happen in any of the other worlds...and come up with bits and pieces of betray, pain, double cross, and ambush. It's always a little different, but the heart of the beast remains the same.

Gambit's father is bait. He's walked into a trap, set down by old enemies.

She whimpers, and hugs her knees closer. The only thing keeping her from tearing on her own bike down to the crescent city is that in every verse where she did in others worlds -the ones most similar to this one...it always ends in death. Gambit's, hers, his father's, and the whole dang city, in a memorable one. The only way this work out where nobody dies is if Gambit comes back to her by himself.

She can't go after him. She can't help him. He has to come back to her.

"Please," she whispers -to God, the universe, their other selves, who knows. She'd take anybody who'd listen. "Please. Ah love him. Bring him back."

That's how she spends the whole night, making wild promises. If he comes back, she tell him she loves him. She'll encourage him to say he loves her too. She'll let him have her...in the full way she's so far deny him, frightened of the images she could see if she joins to him flesh to flesh, bone to bone. Soul to soul.

"Bring him back."

She repeats this over and over, until she curls up into a muttering ball on the cool wood that feels like a coffin.

It's technically the next day when she hears the sound of his motorcycle riding up the path, sees the headlights in the rain.

And the world starts up again as she scrambles for the door.

* * *

VIII

When she's on the porch, for a moment all she can do is stare. He looks like death has kissed him, grimy and burnt clothes and bullet holes in his trench coat as he angrily kick down the stand. She doesn't care. He's here. He's alive.

And he freezes when he looks up and see's her standing there, framed the light of the porch she turns on.

"Chere...Marie," he tries to get out, shaking his head. "Mon Dieu, I'm so-"

She doesn't let him finish, cause in three running steps she flying, tackling him so hard, the air leaves him. And they fall on the path they made together. With the marriage of a whimper and a grunt consummating their union as she captures his mouth for a change.

There's nothing for him to be sorry for, but a world for her to apology in. And she tries to give it with all the passion she has, born from endless lifetimes of loving him.

It's her turn to surrender now. And she feels it rushing through every vein in her skin as Remy gathers his wits enough to capture her as well, hands and fingers moving, taking what she's giving.

"I think maybe you missed me, huh?" he murmurs with a shaky breath, cradling her head into the crock of his neck. She breathes him in. Nods. She not in the mood for their games tonight, to caught up in that he's here, safe with her arms around his shoulders.

"Y-yes," she gets out, with a laugh that half turns into a sob. God it was so close. Closer than he knows.

She feels more than sees the kiss he drops to her drizzled head, again baptized in rain.

"Lets get inside, chere," he saids, picking himself, and her by default, up from the ground. Her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist. With the graceful strength of his former profession, he brings both of them home.

The house is calming in it shadows, silent save for the rain and their mingled breath. Remy maneuvers them easily enough around their wicker chairs and table, still holding her close.

She's not letting him go. Nope. Nuh-uh. Never. So she lets him know when he goes to set her down by her door.

"Ah want to stay with you tonight, Remy," the words feel soft, like they only exist inside her mouth. But the way he stills tells her that he's heard alright, and heard all that lay behind it.

He does set her down. But he doesn't let her go. One hand stays on her waist. The other goes to her chin, tipping up upward to search her gaze with his own red-black fire. That old want from their first night together is back, with the caution that restrained it slipping away. She swallows, feeling her blood spike up as more images of every possibility and past happenings of this event come to her before fading away. But she's not turning back now.

"You know what you're sayin' girl?"

She nods. "Yes."

That flame got a little brighter, the arm around her waist a tad tighter.

"Won't be no going back once it done," his voice is soft. She manages a smile, her own hand reaching up, lily white palm against the darkness of his cheek.

"Ah don't want to go back...Ah want you. And...Ah want you to have meh..."

She swallows again, and comes the closest she ever did to telling him the truth.

"You've always had meh."

The flames for eyes study her seconds more...and then something changes, believes, and he's capturing her again.

* * *

IX

This wasn't how she imagined her maiden night -hadn't picture the day of terror that would came first, and the devil's ice water of fear half-drowning her before she rises up out of the water. But when Remy follows her down onto his bed, her exhale becoming his inhale, Marie can't imagine anything better than when he pulls away her clothes, and she tugs at his, and they finally know each other's skin: her soft, pale. His tan, and scared many times over.

She kisses one over his heart, and he moans, one hand grasping her own before placing it near her head. But with all that, he still pauses before capturing her completely, hovering over her, covering her.

"Dis will hurt," he warns her, fingers brushing the white veil of her hair out of her eyes. She breathes only a little shakily, having absorbed enough memoires and seen enough glimpses to know and semi-understand that fact.

"Ah know," she assures him. It brings him closer.

"I'll be gentle as I can."

That had never been the question between them. Though, she can't help but tense in his grasp when he finishes the capture he started so many months ago. Lifetimes and universes ago.

"Remy-" she tries, voice straining. He hushes her, his thumb on her cheek, his words on her throat.

"It alright, mon âme," he promises. "I got y'. Always."

She smiles. Her next words are a breath, a prayer, an ave.

"Ah know..."

* * *

X

Passion spent, still together, they watch as the morning heralds the fourth day, all the lights shining through a sheen of silver mist; sun, moon, and stars all out. Remy's head is on her heart, and she cradles him there, one hand stroking his hair. The other resting between his shoulder blades. He's in probably the most well deserve sleep of his life.

Marie bites her lip, swallowing hard as more glimpses come rushing to her with all the skin contact, offering all the possibilites of this moment. Including one that makes her stomach drop, her breathe halt and her heart skip.

It's probably a good thing Remy fell asleep when he did. Otherwise, how in the world could she ever explain the high likelihood that their son is growing inside her? That's for time to tell. They'll know soon enough.

Besides...it could be worse...at least in this world they weren't chained up in some forsaken cage in Antarctica.

* * *

XI

And do they ever.

She supposes that it's just a matter of good timing, that the day she confirms what her soul already knows, Remy picks the same day to propose, when they go out for their walk. That was how they ended up here, before the local priest in the one room church, with Remy's boss and the few friends she made gathered quickly for witnesses. She's in a yellow-white sundress, his nicest t-shirt has holes in it. As far as anyone outside this little circle will know, it's a day like any other. That's how they want it.

* * *

XII

The woman once called Rogue sets some southern cooking on her table, wipes her hands on a dish rag, and then waddles around to the porch, where Remy is already teaching their four year old to be a card shark, God help him.

"Dinner's up," she tells them, hand on her belly. "Come on Swamp Rats."

"Ah, five more minutes Mama," Olivier groans, before blinking her own green eyes up at her innocently. "Pllleassse?"

And if she doesn't just near melt, still awed by the mere fact her little boy is real. Cause in so many worlds she's glimpsed...he wasn't. Neither was his sister, growing safely inside her. But Remy shakes his head, slaps down his cards, and scoops the little boy up under one arm.

"We'll play some more after dinner, Oli," he chuckles, enjoying the playful squeals and squirming as he tickles Olivier's under belly.

"Papa stop it! I can't breathe!" he howls.

"Non, but y' got a pair of lungs on y' boy," Remy grins, dropping thier son into his seat. "Y' get t'at from yo' mere."

He arches a eyebrow over at her with that, and she give him a stink eye in return, even if her belly's warming up.

"Oh," she winces, as her daughter does a backflip. It makes both her boys look up.

"Alright chere?" Remy questions, already halfway out of his seat. Marie similes wryly.

" Ah'm fine. Your daughter just a little Jackrabbit tonight."

Olivier tilts his head, then declares, "It's weird that she doesn't have a name yet. How much longer are ya gonna wait?"

"Till we have the right one sugah," she replies easily. Though like many things, that's only true for the boys. The Rogue knows her daughter's name. But she's waiting for someone to naturally find it. To ensnare it.

Oli nods seriously, reaching out and putting a hand on his mother's round tummy, chewing his lip cause the matter's serious to him. Then his eyes light up.

"How 'bout Rebecca, Mama?"

And like that, her heart skips a beat.

"Rebecca?" And somehow her voice doesn't tremble.

Oli beams. "Yeah, like the story Teacher read us. Rebecca. It's pretty right?"

"Sure is son," Remy agrees, carding his fingers though Oli's mop of tangled aubrun hair. "Like a gem. Chere? "

Marie only smiles. " Ah couldn't agree more."

Rebecca. Ensnared. Now she's real too.

* * *

XIII

Just cause they've chosen life out in the bayou doesn't mean their under a rock. Every now and then, news of the X-Men, of mutants, of villains and battles filter down the slow moving currents into their little town. And yes...she admit, sometimes, she feels a twang of guilt for leaving them as she did. She'll wonder if she was selfish.

But something inside her bucks at that, as she recalls the glimpses she gotten when she was among them, of their inner brawls, lost of control, destructive factions, aloofness from the rest of mankind, and the handful of world ending events she technically shouldn't have been aware of, given that through time jumps and the power of a crazy firebird -oh, sorry, ya mean Jean's dead_ again?_\- that the rest of the world would never know. She's done wielding that sort of power, the power that she already has to much of, in this world. A power that will eventually destroy them, despite the best of their intentions, cause they don't know themselves. Her being there or not will have no impact.

Her impact lives here, in the lives she cares for. In the two she help begun. The baby that happily gums at her breast in the middle of the night proves that, beyond all doubt. Cause through this most intimate bond where you can't tell where mother stops and daughter begins, the glimpses dance once more in a drizzle of rain.

It's only of this world now, this life. And as always, it's not all good. And she sighs as she sees the ultimate fall of the X-Men, her old friends, collapsed from within than from enemies without -though of course, it wouldn't be long till those swoop down on the carcass. Her grip on Rebecca tightens, and she has to lock her legs together to keep from going into her room, where Oli has curled up against his father after a bad dream. Remy's hand stroking their boy's hair even in his sleep.

When fate collects it dues, it would be dark times that follow...for all their flaws, the X-Men kept a large number of the darker things at bay in this world, along with many others. Darker things that will roll over the earth and boil it over in blackness and filth.

But it wouldn't last forever. Evil never does. And it's ultimate defeat will match the X-Men's. Collapsed from within. Then the rain would come, and wash the old world away. It would be left to the survivors to remember the old.

Her family would be among them, the Gambit's skill and the Rogue's tenacity -sleepy from domestically, but far from tame -will assure them of that, long with the majority of their town, who will become their people. Their children would be among those who would inherit the earth.

But that's not now, not tonight. Now she merely nurses her daughter, and knows her blessings as she watches the fall of rain.

Finis

* * *

So that's a wrap Folks! If you liked it, leave a review! Like I said, my version of Rogue comes mostly from the movies and Ultimate -it was how I first knew the character, and I loved her charming, more innocent version. What I loved most in Ultimate is how she's willing to leave everything for Remy. But this version of her powers is my idea -what if instead of forever sucking life-force, she evolves to glispe the possibility with someone everytime she touches them?


End file.
